Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Today, I had to put down my 4-legged best friend. He was 14 (98 in dog years), we adopted him on July 24, 2004 from our favorite rescue. It was the day after we returned from our month-long vaca out West and had run up to PetSmart for kitty supplies. Our favorite rescue was there with several dogs for the adoption fair. Hubby picked him out for me right away and it was a match made in heaven!

Today, I knew it was the end. Too many medical problems (dementia, cancer, tumors, deafness, blindness, incredible slowness and even painful to watch him get up and down and sometimes not even be able to make the ONE step into our ranch house!), then a bathrooming issue in the past few weeks. I deliberately put the inevitable off til after his birthday earlier this month, but then our grandbaby was born last week and it was an emotional week.

Today, I was home with him and groomed him all pretty. He ate the steak I made for him. We slowly went for a mile walk that took over an hour, he tripped a dozen times on the dry pavement. (Two years ago, we could easily do 2 miles in less than 30 minutes!) I let him lead the way, he was so happy! He saw one of his best puppy-friends in town. Watching him almost prance as we went home, I started to rethink my decision. Sure, he pooped twice this morning on the floor before 8 am, but maybe it WAS my fault (even tho he'd been outside most of the time.) Then I looked behind us and saw that he'd been pooping as we walked. He wasn't even aware!

Today, I stayed with him the whole time, long after his heart stopped. I made sure he was looking in my eyes, he saw my tears and heard my voice and felt me petting him the whole time. He wasn't alone, although I was very alone. (Rick asked me to please do it without him if I was able to get him in my car. That wasn't an easy feat, it took me 30 minutes to get him in because it's hard to dead-lift 64 lbs of hairy dog! He just couldn't get up himself. Rick did text me that he would "man up" if necessary, but he "doesn't handle that stuff well." I guess I do?!!? Because I don't. Really.)

The vet's office was so somber when we got there (I'd called ahead); this is the sucky part of their job. Everyone remarked how beautiful he was, but they had his file. They saw the kiwi-sized tumor on the side of his face. They saw him trip getting onto the scale and straining to get himself back up. His tail was down.

I have so many great memories of him. He LIVED 2 years after I'd been told " he only has a few months at most." He was always there to love me, especially for those awful 15 months when I lost my best friend Bethany, Dalton (my fat cat), Dad (my father-in-law who showed me what a father should have been) and my oldest brother. He was there when my daughter had a terrible health scare. He is in pics from my daughter's grad party.

He would walk away from a steak dinner to go for a walk with me. Whenever he saw his leash come out, it was like he won the doggy lottery! He loved cheese and meat, especially venison and steak. He preferred cheap Aldi's dog treats over the expensive ALPO "meat-basted" ones. He liked pizza crusts and being hand-fed bacon. He loved cooked butternut squash and homemade powder puff Christmas cookies.

I could leave a bag of chips on the floor and he'd never touch it. I could put a steak on a platter in front of him on the floor and tell him no and he'd never touch it, until I said OK.

I miss his kisses and petting him. I miss listening for him to bark that he wants to come in. I see his packs of hotdogs when I open the fridge, his water dish on the floor in the kitchen (which the cats all use, too.)

I'm glad I made the decision before I became resentful of taking care of him and his accidents. There are only GREAT memories and no regret. My 4-legged best friend was perfect and will always be fondly remembered that way.

Sunshine - Walking on Sunshine - 2/14/2012 05:04:00 AM

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